


Out Of Toronto

by dsa_archivist



Category: due South
Genre: Drama, F/M, Gen, Series: The Trio Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-04-25
Updated: 1999-04-25
Packaged: 2018-11-11 06:31:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11142807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dsa_archivist/pseuds/dsa_archivist
Summary: The trio go to Toronto to track a serial killer from Ray's past.





	Out Of Toronto

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Speranza, the archivist: this story was once archived at [Due South Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Due_South_Archive). To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Due South Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/duesoutharchive).

Out Of Toronto

 

 

I'd like to thank Nikki (Nik) and Melissa (Mel) for giving me such a  
powerful and emotional plotline. TYK! A few things have been changed,  
but they are the true helpers. Thank you kindly once more, Nik and Mel,  
for giving me this storyline to work with.  
  
Out Of Toronto  
Number Four in The Trio Series  
  
SmileyFace  
  
Email:  
  
Flames will be used for toasting marshmallows, otters will given to my  
friends as Christmas presents. Nice comments will make me smile.  
  


______________________________________  


 

Toronto, 1988

The cold winter winds blew on him as he tracked to the deserted alley  
in search of her. He called her by her first name over and over but no  
response was heard for miles.

She wasn't there. No one was.

He knew he must find her before he did. He knew she didn't have the slightest  
idea what was going on.

And it was his fault. He didn't tell her.

His feet were like lightening, quick and fast, as he ran down the alley.  
Shadows danced on the surrounding brick walls as the moonlight flickered  
illusions of human shadows on them, but they weren't real. He was hoping  
they were.

He was hoping one shadow was hers.

And then a terrible scream pierced the quiet night air. A scream filled  
with fear and agony. A scream that rung inside his ears as he bolted  
toward it.

"SAMANTHA!" he cried in search of her.

All was silent. All was quiet.

But all wasn't all right.

He rushed to her dead weight body and scooped it into his arms. Her brown  
eyes were shut, the silver moonlight poured onto her reddened skin. And  
he knew it wasn't reddened from the cold.

As his fingers ran over her smooth cheek in shock, blood dripped on the  
tips of them. He checked her pulse, and found nothing.

She didn't make it.

"No!" he screamed. "No, please..."

His following words were a whisper, so soft that even the best could  
not hear.

"I'll track you down, you snake. Even if it kills me, Dumont. But  
you'll be the first to go."

____________

Chicago, Present Day

Raymond Vecchio sat tiredly in his desk chair in the 27th Precinct's  
squad room where all was busy as normal and all was in full motion. Full  
motion, ah yes. That had gotten him to the state he was in now. Sleepiness.  
Ray casually yawned, covering his mouth as he watched two detectives  
wrestle a criminal inside the squad room.

"Hey Vecchio, be glad you didn't have to chase this scum bag thirty  
miles just for speeding!" Detective Louis Gardino called, dragging  
the criminal who was cuffed behind his back. His partner shook his head.

"No, Louis," Detective Jack Huey corrected. "He was speeding  
first, *then* he resisted arrest. That's why we chased him thirty miles."

Ray shrugged. "I don't blame the poor guy for resisting arrest.  
Especially when it's you Duck Boys that are the ones arresting."

Louie glared at Ray, who waved to him, leaning back in his chair, grinning.  
Huey saw his friend's mad face and pulled at Louie's arm.

"Easy, Louis. Easy," Huey said. Ray watched them drag the man  
to a spare chair, then sit down at their shared desk. Ray pulled up at  
the sleeve of his shirt and checked the time on his watch.

"They should be here in any minute," he announced to himself  
with a hint of pride. Just at that moment, Ben Fraser and Meg Thatcher  
walked through the double doors that greeted everyone who came through  
them into the Precinct. Fraser and Meg were Ray's two best friends. They  
all together had formed a Trio of friends and worked on the same cases,  
the ones Ray got, ever since the past Christmas. It wasn't too long ago.  
Almost two months ago. It was now late January and still wintry cold  
outside.

"Good morning, Ray," Meg greeted him, taking off her jean jacket,  
smoothing her sweat shirt down. She reached into her jean pocket and  
started fishing for something. She pulled out a quarter. "Here,  
here." She tossed him the coin. Ray grinned and caught it.

"I *told* you the Blackhawks would win," Ray reminded. Meg  
shrugged.

"It just wasn't the Maple Leafs' night," she defended. Fraser  
smiled.

"Good morning, Ray!" he said, looking behind him for his wolf  
Diefenbaker, who padded along to his master and whined up to Ray.

"What?!" Ray asked, frowning. "Oh, so you know where your  
bread's buttered, eh?"

Dief barked.

"Ok, fine." Ray took a donut off a near-by table that was with  
a plateful and gave it to Dief. Fraser closed his eyes.

"Ray, that wolf is on a DIET," he said, disgusted. Ray shrugged.

"Aw, come on, Benny. One little donut ain't never killed a wolf,"  
he said, grinning as Dief ate the donut quickly. When he was finished,  
he looked up to Ray and whined. Ray held his hands up. "I said *one*  
donut never killed a wolf, not two."

From a bit away over the normal buzzing activity, Lieutenant Harding  
Welsh's voice could be heard calling the Trio.

"Vecchio, Fraser, Thatcher, in my office!"

Ray nodded toward Welsh's shut door and all three made their way over  
to Welsh's office and Fraser opened the door. Meg quickly pinned her  
dark shoulder length hair back up behind her head with a hair clip and  
walked inside, Ray following her and Fraser following him.

Welsh shut the door behind the Trio and looked at all of them. Amazingly,  
Meg found herself in the middle of the two boys, one to either side of  
her.

"There's something I wanted to tell you all so have a seat,"  
Welsh told them, taking a seat for himself. Ray shook his head.

"We can stand, sir," he said. Welsh nodded.

"As you wish." Pulling a file from on his desk, he handed it  
to Ray first. "This might ring a bell, Detective."

Ray's green eyes widened as he looked over the rap sheet and mug shots.  
"Sir..." he said very quietly, "...not Dumont, sir."

Welsh nodded gravely. "Yes, Vecchio. Dumont. He's out."

Ray's head jerked upward. "Out?! He can't be!"

"He is, Vecchio. He is."

Ray's lips parted, and he looked back down to the file, touching the  
paper with his finger tips ever so carefully. Meg looked confused at  
Welsh, but he shook his head and placed a finger to his lips, as if to  
say not to ask at the moment.

"How'd he escape?" Ray asked.

"Threw a big confusion and got everyone's attention that way, and  
unfortunately it stayed that way. On the confusion. He's already got  
a new victim, I'm afraid."

Ray shut his eyes and turned away from the desk, pacing over to the other  
side of the office. Fraser picked up the file Ray had given back to Welsh  
and let Meg read it while he did as well. When Ray turned again, he placed  
the file on Welsh's desk. Ray didn't notice.

"Where do you want me to be?" Ray asked. Welsh shook his head.

"Where do I want you all to be, Vecchio? In Toronto."

For the first time since the three had become a Trio, Ray looked uneasy  
about all of them working on a case together.

"Sir, this is a...personal thing. It might be best to leave Fraser  
and Meg out," Ray told Welsh, but Welsh shook his head. Both pairs  
of Canadian eyes looked from Welsh to Ray, then back to Welsh.

"It might be easier, too, to say that this case is far too personal  
for you and that I shall give it to another detective and his partner,  
Vecchio."

Ray was determined. "No, sir. We'll all work this case...together."

Welsh nodded. "I was hoping it would be that way. Your flight for  
Toronto leaves in two hours. Be at the O' Hara air port at 1pm. You'll  
be met at the Toronto air port by a Toronto detective named Kyle Gammon.  
Dismissed."

"Yes, sir," the three chorused in together.

Ray didn't stop walking once he was out of Welsh's office until he got  
to his desk. He grabbed his 1971 Buick Riviera's keys and looked back  
at Meg and Fraser once he reached the entrance/exit doors.

"Uh, do you need a ride, because I'll--"

Fraser shook his head. "No, thanks. Meg and I will be fine, Ray.  
We'll meet you at the airport."

Ray scanned Fraser's blue eyes with his green ones momentarily before  
mouthing "thanks" and exiting the Precinct. Meg's ebony eyes  
looked up at Fraser.

"I don't understand what type of personal connection Ray has with  
this Alexander Dumont, Fraser," she admitted.

"Dumont's a serial killer," Fraser explained. "Ten years  
ago this month he killed Ray's good friend Samantha Burgen. He was convicted  
and put in jail, but escaped just a short while ago and is now loose  
in Toronto."

"What makes him a serial killer?" Meg asked. Fraser turned  
to her, a shy, nervous hand reached up and touched a fly away piece of  
her dark pony tail, looping it onto his finger.

"He strangles women with dark hair that have relationships with  
police officers, and before they die, he carves a message in their stomachs.  
That's why I want you to be extra careful, Meg."

Meg touched his shoulder. "I will be. I promise."

Fraser gently patted her arm, then turned to the doorway where Ray had  
disappeared through.

"I know," he replied. "I just hope Ray will be too."  
____________

Alone, Ray opened his bedroom door inside his mother's home and cautiously  
looked around. He wanted to make sure he was, indeed, alone. He threw  
his keys on his made bed and got down on his knees in search of a shoe  
box that sat underneath the bed. He pulled it out and sat Indian style  
on the floor, opening the box, blowing specks of dust off the box lid.

He reached inside and first pulled out a dried daisy that was pressed  
in between two small sheets of white paper and looked at it, touching  
the creamy dried petals. Setting the flower down, he pulled out a photo  
frame that had a picture inside it. The person to the left he knew was  
him, smiling to the camera.

His fingers traced over the person on the right. She was smiling at him,  
looking at the Ray inside the photograph, squeezing his hand. Her dark  
eyes seemed to dance. Like happy children, they danced as the Samantha  
in the photo looked to the Ray inside the same one.

He realized that the Ray inside the photo was now wet. A single tear  
dripped onto the photograph as Ray held it in his large hands. Another  
fell on Samantha. Ray quickly brushed his tears away and wiped the ones  
on the photo away.

Anger. Anger like an anger that he never knew possessed his soul. An  
anger full of emotion fueled his heart's burning fire of hate against  
Alexander Dumont. An anger that made his fingers remove the picture from  
its frame and move to the center above Ray and Samantha's heads, tearing  
the photo in half, right between the two subjects, dropping himself on  
the carpet, but his shaking fingers still holding Samantha. His index  
finger traced her jaw and hair. He looked closely at the photo and kissed  
her in it, shoving it deep inside his suit jacket's hidden pocket.

"I'll get the snake for you, Sam," Ray swore, putting the contents  
he had taken out of the shoe box back inside. "I swear it."

Once the shoe box was in its hidden place again, Ray went to his closet  
and opened the sliding doors, taking a large gray suitcase out of it.  
Just then he heard a car drive into the drive way, and moment's later  
children laughing happily as Mama Vecchio, Maria Vecchio, Tony, her husband,  
and Maria and Tony's kids walked to the large house.

Ray knew he had to tell his mother.

Wiping the remains of tears away, he sniffed in and started packing.  
He would find Dumont and kill him. If it was the last thing on earth  
he did.  
____________

"Taxi!" the Italian detective called, waving his large left  
hand to the yellow cab who saw Ray standing on the curb, holding his  
gray suit case in his right. Ray figured it would be easier to take a  
cab rather than his own car. As the cab pulled beside Ray, the driver  
rolled down the front passenger's seat window with the automatic button  
by his left hand and said to Ray as he opened the back door:

"Where to, sir?"

Ray slid his suit case to the far left, then sat in the right seat.

"The airport. I'll give you extra, I need to be there before 1pm,  
that's when my flight leaves."

"You got it," the driver replied, pulling onto the road after  
Ray shut the cab door.

While driving, the driver glanced up in his rear-view mirror at Ray,  
who sat solemnly in the back seat, drowning in the sea of his thoughts.  
He frowned at the detective.

"You know," he began, "us cab drivers come across a lot  
of people. Tons of 'em. Ain't never got one as solemn as you though before.  
I hate to be rude and all, but y'all gotta know to be cheerful, if you  
catch my drift."

Ray looked to the cabby. "Yeah," he sighed. "I've just  
got a lot on my mind."

The cabby nodded. "Wanna talk about it, to throw it off your back?"

Ray shrugged. "It's just...have you...nah, never mind." He  
propped his elbow up on the door in front of the window he stared out  
of. The cabby knew better than to push a person to telling something  
to a complete stranger.

"Okay," he replied. "But if you change your mind, let  
me know."

Ray smiled for a short moment. "I'll do that, thanks."

But it seemed as though he never did.  
____________

Meg drove Fraser and herself to the airport after they had gathered their  
own bags from their apartments, coming up with two similar canvas bags  
that were stored in the trunk of Meg's car. She shook her head as they  
drove to the airport.

"I'm worried for Ray, Fraser," she admitted, watching the road  
in front of her. "This doesn't sound like...like something he should  
really be tackling."

Fraser nodded. "I know. Ten years is a while, but not too long for  
healing."

"I mean," Meg started again, "he didn't even want us to  
help him at first until he was threatened to have it leave him. I realize  
we may not be quite close enough, him and I, but damn! This must be pretty  
personal for him not to want us on it."

"He could be concerned about your involvement with him and the threat  
to you from this Dumont character."

"He could. But I doubt it's just that." She turned to him after  
stopping at a red light. "I'm just worried about him. What if he  
goes and does something stupid? Anger can make that happen. I just...don't  
want him to hurt himself."

"Ray will be okay, Meg. Don't worry for him." Fraser looked  
into her eyes. She nodded.

"I guess you're right," she said softly. "I'll just be  
worried for the dark-haired women out there who are involved in any way  
with cops."

Ray met Meg and Fraser at the airport and took their bags to the luggage  
room, dropped them off, then boarded the airplane. Ray took a window  
seat in a row in front of Meg and Fraser's row. Wherever he went, windows  
seemed to give him some sort of comfort. To look out them, to see the  
view, to feel an embrace by her words she once said to him long ago.

 _You can always find a picture of something twice in a book. But you'll  
never, ever find the same view again once looked through a window. Ever.  
_  
She was right. It was true, he could never find the same exact view.  
Either the clouds would change, the sun would stay behind them, or it  
was rain. There was never a time he had found the exact picture once  
looked through a window.

He thought for a moment as the plane finally took off down the runway  
at 1:15pm. He pulled out the half photo of Samantha, and traced her face  
once more before kissing it silently, without anyone seeing, and shoving  
it back in his Armani suit jacket.

It would be a long flight to Toronto.  
____________

"Flight 207 in for landing. Thank you for using _Air Canada_  
for all your travel needs. Please remain seated until the plane has come  
to a complete stop. Thank you!"

Ray opened his eyes. It was better to get some sleep on the plane than  
anywhere else. He wouldn't, he knew, sleep that night at the Toronto  
hotel the Trio was staying at. As instructed, Ray stood when the plane  
doors opened, and as a vast group of travelers filed out of the aircraft.  
Meg and Fraser were standing as well, stretching to remove the kinks  
from their bodies. Ray waited until they were once again all together  
to leave the plane.

But he didn't speak a word to either of the Canadians.

"Detective Vecchio, Constable Fraser, and Inspector Thatcher I presume?"  
A red haired woman greeted them almost as soon as they stepped off the  
flight. "I'm Detective Kyla Gammon, nice to meet you all finally."

Ray looked confused. "Kyla Gammon? We were told it was Kyle Gammon."

Kyla frowned. "Well, no. My name's KyLA Gammon, with an A. Must  
have gotten the names mixed, it happens often and I'm used to it."

Ray shook Kyla's hand, following was Fraser, then Meg. Kyla smiled.

"Would you care to gather your bags or have them delivered to your  
hotel?" she questioned.

"Have them deliver. I want to see the crime scene as soon as possible,"  
Ray answered before Fraser could start to say something. Fraser shut  
his mouth and nodded to himself, crossing his arms behind his back as  
Ray followed Kyla to the parking lot. Meg looked up to Fraser, who shook  
his head at her, and she stepped ahead to follow closely behind Ray and  
Kyla Gammon.

"We can do that," Kyla said. "Of course, Toronto's PD  
has already been over the scene, nothing, but I just got a radio call  
in just before your flight touched the ground, and it said there was  
another victim."

Ray turned to her. "Another?" he asked.

Kyla nodded. "Her name was Hillary Wilson. She was the fiancée  
of Detective Marc Dustin. He was pretty upset with it. I would be too.  
Poor woman." She opened her cell phone and called in Ray's request  
of delivery for their luggage to another officer, then hung up. "The  
Toronto PD's about three minutes away from here. Don't worry," Kyla  
assured as she continued to walk.

Ray's paces began to slow as he thought of the new victim. Dammit, his  
mind yelled. Dammit, Dumont. I'll get you for this. One more and you're  
mine. You're mine for all the women that had to suffer. Two so far. You'll  
pay for their deaths. Counting Sam's. I swear it, you sick pig.

Meg watched the emotions flash across Ray's face as he thought the rage-filled  
thoughts. She could see he was hurting. Hurting more than anything she  
had seen. Hurting more than she had ever know a person could. His green  
eyes glanced to her, and she turned away quietly as the Trio followed  
Kyla to the waiting automobile that was parked on the airport. His eyes  
continued to stare at her escaped pieces of dark hair that blew gently  
in the crisp wind. She was looking down at her feet as she walked. He  
saw the dark red highlights of her hair shining in the bright sun, reminding  
Ray how dark brown it was.

And how much danger she was in. He swallowed quietly. Dumont wouldn't  
touch Meg. He would make sure of it.

Kyla guided the Trio to the Buick and Ray looked to his friends, facing  
them for the first time since they had left to get their bags from their  
apartments in Chicago.

"Any particular place y'all want to sit?" he asked. Meg shook  
her head, her ebony eyes scanning his green ones.

"Ben and I will sit in the back," she replied. Ray's and Meg's  
eyes locked for a moment, and he nodded, sitting in the front seat of  
Buick. Fraser walked around to the driver's side, and sat inside the  
car while Meg took the seat behind Ray.

Kyla sighed inwardly at their solemn expressions. They had every right.  
____________

"I was just talking with my C.O. and he said to inform you all that  
in the Toronto PD, we work sometimes 24 hour days, so don't worry about  
staying in the PD with us or anything." Kyla turned into the Toronto  
Police Department parking lot and shut her car off as the Trio, one by  
one, exited the car. "I'll have Terry take you over, Detective Vecchio,  
to the scene, I made sure this one was saved for you to see before the  
FBI got any say in it."

"Thanks, Kyla," Ray said, nodding to her.

"You're welcome," she replied, opening the double doors for  
the Trio as they entered the Precinct. It seemed as though the Canadian  
cops' eyes were following the Trio all the way to Kyla's office before  
she shut the door. "There are some final things to make sure of,  
we know you're cops, but we'd like to see weapon registration for America  
and Canada."

Since Ray was the only one in the Trio to have a firearm, he showed his  
semi-automatic's registry to Kyla and she nodded.

"Have a seat, I'll be back with Officer Terry Marsh, he'll help  
you with what you need."

Ray watched Kyla leave, sitting in her spare chair. For the first time  
since he had been in Chicago, Ray realized he hadn't let the two Canadians  
speak or had hardly spoken to them. He knew Fraser's eyes were on him  
as he sat and played with his shirt in Kyla's spare chair.

"Look, Meg, Benny...I'm..." Ray stopped and looked up to his  
two friends. With understanding, Meg nodded.

"It's okay," she whispered. "We understand."

"No, it's not ok, Meg." Ray argued. "I shoulda...I shoulda  
been with you guys, not trying to ignore you. The reason I was, was because  
I didn't know you two cared until you told me."

Fraser looked to his friend. "I didn't realize I told you, Ray."

"You both did," Ray replied. "Thank you."

About then, Kyla's office door opened up and Kyla was in company with  
a dark haired male cop, who looked to them and shook their hands.

"Terry Marsh, Toronto PD. We'd better get a move on, Detective Vecchio.  
The FBI won't hold up any longer, though it's only been ten minutes,"  
Terry explained. Ray nodded and looked to Meg and Fraser.

"Is there room in the car for two more officers?" Ray asked.  
Fraser's mouth turned up in a slight grin and Meg nodded. Ray was back  
again. And hopefully he'd stay this time.  
____________

Ray didn't wait to pass under the police tape, though, when the Trio  
finally reached the scene of the second victim on Dumont's agenda at  
around 6:30pm. Flashing his photo ID and his badge, he rushed to the  
victim's body that laid on the pavement of the deserted alley and knelt  
to her. Meg and Fraser followed him.

"RCMP, I'm with him and he's with me," Meg instructed a uniform  
officer that was guarding the crime scene from the many reporters that  
flashed their cameras to cover a top story that was going around Toronto  
ever since Dumont's escape. Fraser followed Meg under the tape and stood  
a bit further back as Meg neared the body. She jumped slightly, without  
her even knowing it, when she saw the victim's body. Fraser came behind  
her and laid a hand on her shoulder as he looked at the body, who was  
joined with Ray on the ground as he stared at the woman.

Meg looked again at the body after turning away and saw the reason she  
had jumped. On her stomach there was a carved message:

"Never Again."

Fraser could feel her tension as he touched her shoulder and brought  
her a bit back from the body, trying to walk her back out of the taped  
area, but she was frozen as she stared at the body.

"Who is this man, Ben?" she whispered with fear.

"He's not a man, Meg," Fraser corrected. "He's an animal."

Fraser guided Meg out of the taped area, afraid she might get sick or  
become too afraid, leaving Ray inside the crime scene, holding the victim's  
hand. As the officers searched around him for possible evidence or clues,  
a single tear slipped down his face and on to hers and he whispered:

"I'm sorry...I'm so sorry."

Ray let the victim's hand go and stood, turning away from the crime scene.  
A uniform officer came to him.

"We found nothing, Detective," the uniform said. "This  
one's clean like the last."

Ray nodded with disgust. "It's Dumont, trust me. I know it."  
His green eyes scanned the crowd behind the tape and saw Meg and Fraser  
in the far back by Terry's car where Terry was waiting. He saw Fraser  
still holding her shoulder and knew Meg must have been shaken up over  
it all. Slowly, he walked out from underneath the tape and to the car.  
Fraser looked to Ray.

"Was there anything?" he asked quietly.

Ray shook his head. "No. That's what makes it Dumont. It was his  
MO" Ray looked down to Meg, who was staring at the pavement in the  
alley. Then he turned to Terry. "Detective Marsh, I want you to  
call me on my cell phone if you get *anything* on Dumont's whereabouts  
or anything else. Got it?"

Terry nodded. "I'll make sure I do. And everyone else too."

"Thanks," Ray replied. He touched Meg's arm and she looked  
into his eyes. "You okay?" he asked quietly. She nodded.

"I'm fine, thanks," she whispered. Ray shook his head.

"No you're not. I want to get some food into you, Meg. And you need  
to rest. It was a long flight."

Meg nodded weakly and Fraser guided her to the back of Terry's S.U.V.,  
a Ford Explorer, and helped her inside. After her door was shut, Ray  
told Fraser before he could get in, "We've gotta watch her, Benny.  
Very closely. If Dumont knows I'm here, she's on his MO list. She's got  
to eat tonight, she didn't look too good."

Fraser nodded. "I agree. I've already taken it upon myself to tell  
her she needs to stay with you and me. And not to talk with anyone, or  
go anywhere or do anything."

Ray nodded and climbed in the Explorer with Fraser, and Terry started  
it up, driving to the Trio's last stop, their hotel.  
____________

"That's two now. And yet, I thought I was alone. But Vecchio shows."  
An evil smile pierced the dark night air. "But at least he shows  
with a beautiful brunette woman." There was a grunt. "Never  
again, Vecchio. I'll never go to prison again. I will teach you that  
however it needs to be taught. Even if it costs your little Meg's life.  
But it will be taught." A wine glass was shattered as it was thrown  
across the dark, cool room.

"Never again."  
____________

Fraser kept a large hand on Meg's shoulder as Terry drove the Trio to  
their hotel. She'd smile weakly, but the crime scene and the victim made  
her sick. Ray knew it. He knew she'd pretend to be strong, but in reality,  
she was weak when she saw Dumont's work. It wasn't pretty, he admitted  
that, and he knew that she knew that.

"Here," Fraser said quietly, loosening Meg's seat belt a bit  
and gently pushing her to his waiting shoulder. "Lean on me."

"Thanks," she whispered, shutting her eyes. Fraser smoothed  
her hair down and watched her breath. Momentarily, his eyes wandered  
to her flat stomach. It rose a little when she breathed, then sunk in  
as she exhaled. His mind wondered for a split second if her stomach would  
wear the "Never Again" message Dumont had carved into the other  
women. He knew Ray wouldn't let it happen. And neither would he.

Terry pulled into the hotel parking lot a few moments later and shut  
off the engine. He turned around to where Meg was sleeping on Fraser  
and said to the two men:

"Seems as though she's tired," He smiled. "Anyway, just  
to let you both know, you'll most likely be talking to Detective Marc  
Dustin tomorrow morning. He'll be pretty upset, and he'll be in the Precinct.  
I'll phone you all and tell you the exact plans for tomorrow when it  
comes." Terry nodded to Meg. "If I were you...I wouldn't take  
my eyes off the her. Seems like she's on his type just looking at her."

Ray nodded. "I wouldn't doubt that she is. She'll be with us wherever  
she goes. Breakfast, changing, shower, I don't care. I want to be everywhere  
she is. Until I put that scum bag in jail once and for all."

Terry sighed. "That's good." He looked to Fraser, then back  
to Ray. "Keep in touch, here's my number, it'll reach the Precinct,  
my desk, this is my cell and finally," Terry handed Ray the last  
number, "and this one will reach Kyla's desk. Try the first, then  
the second, then the third in their order to reach me. G'night."

Ray waited outside the car as Fraser opened his door. He realized she  
was still sleeping and picked her up, taking her out of the car in his  
arms. Terry grinned as Ray shut the door and grinned back, watching the  
cop drive out of the lot, leaving the Trio in front of the hotel. The  
two entered, and Ray walked to the front desk while Fraser laid Meg temporarily  
in a chair, waking her up from her sleep while Ray signed the Trio in.

"C'mon, Benny. Let's go," Ray said, watching Meg stand shakily  
and walk up the stairs with Fraser's guiding.

They reached their hotel rooms, but Fraser brought Meg into his. He let  
her sit on his neatly made bed while he shut the door behind himself.  
She nearly fell off the bed as she fell asleep sitting up on the edge  
of the bed, but Fraser took her boots off and her jean jacket, then slowly  
removed her hair clip that was holding her hair up to the back of her  
head. She murmured something in her sleep as he laid her down on the  
bed, pulling the covers up her body, stopping at her chin. She opened  
her eyes for a short moment to stare into his that were scanning hers,  
though they were shut.

"How's Ray, Ben?" she asked softly. Fraser shook his head.

"He's all right. Shhh, rest now."

Taking his advice, she shut her eyes for sleep as he rose from his kneeling  
position and walked to the foot of the bed to answer the door that Ray  
had been knocking on. Ray walked inside after Fraser answered and saw  
Meg in Fraser's bed.

"I don't want to take any chances with Dumont, Ray. Who really knows  
if he can get in here, she'll be safer with me."

Ray nodded in approval. "Woulda liked to got some food into her,  
we'll do that tomorrow morning, though it's only eight." He paused.  
"Want something to eat, Benny?" Ray asked. Fraser shook his  
head.

"I can't leave her," he reminded. Ray patted Fraser's back  
as they watched Meg.

"I'll bring some soup up to you. It's pretty cold here in Toronto,  
and it's wintertime. How about it?"

Fraser smiled. "Thank you kindly, Ray."

"No, Benny." Ray grinned. "Thank *you* kindly for being  
one of the best friends I've got."  
____________

Ray returned with the chicken noodle soup he'd promised his friend, who  
was sitting beside Meg in his bed, just watching her sleep, as if he  
was lost in thought. Opening the door quietly, Ray slipped in the room  
and clicked the door shut behind himself. Fraser turned his head sharply  
to the noise and realized it was only Ray.

"Ahh, it's just you, Ray." But Fraser's smile told Ray that  
he was very important to him. Ray grinned.

"I've got your chicken noodle soup for ya, Benny. Eat up,"  
the detective told Fraser as he headed for the door. The Mountie looked  
confused. "I, uh, told the hotel people downstairs that we didn't  
need Meg's room. They're renting it to someone else. I'm gonna shower  
then head for bed. I already ate my soup."

"Are you sure you're all right, Ray?" Fraser asked.

Ray nodded. "I'm fine, Benny."

"You come in here if you need to. To talk, to sleep. Whatever you  
need."

"I will, Fras," Ray said with a smile.

"Goodnight, Ray. And thank you kindly for dinner. It was nice of  
you."

"Yeah, yeah...don't get all mushy on me." He grinned. "G'night,  
Benny."

Fraser sighed as Ray shut the door behind himself as he exited the room.  
He turned as Meg stirred in her sleep. Setting his cup of soup on the  
nightstand beside his side of the bed, he made room for her to move around,  
and she settled down close to Fraser's leg. He knew he'd better change  
and eat his soup quickly, so he did. The soup warmed him up as he took  
spoonfuls of it at a time while changing beside the bed on the floor.  
When he was finally in a pair of RCMP sweat pants and a short sleeved  
undershirt, he crawled back in the bed beside Meg, who found a spot close  
to his shoulder. Fraser left the empty container of the soup on the nightstand  
and pulled the covers up around her first, then pulled them up on his  
side over him. They had some sleeping to do.  
____________

It wasn't long after Ray had finished showering that he had packed himself  
off to bed, knowing it wouldn't do him much good, but some at least,  
if he could some sleep he knew things would be better for them all in  
the Trio tomorrow. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't shut  
his eyes, and when he did, they wouldn't relax him to sleep. Nothing  
would.

After counting his one-hundredth sheep, Ray gave up his sleep-attempt  
and turned over carelessly to his right side, then his left, then he  
sat up against the large wood headboard behind himself that was attached  
to the bed. He sat up in the dark room, waiting for his eyes to adjust  
to the lighting change, and he sighed. Dumont had two other victims,  
what was worse was that he knew they wouldn't be his last until he caught  
him. And, even worse than that, Ray had no possible clues or evidence  
to go on, to search for Dumont's whereabouts, or anything that could  
help the Trio.

Ray's second thought was on Meg. She would have to be extra careful through  
this whole case, he or Fraser would be by her side, no matter where she  
went. Eating, shower, dressing, sleeping, it didn't matter. He wouldn't  
let Dumont have Meg as a victim. And if it was within his power, he wouldn't  
let Dumont have any more.

The Italian detective sighed once more. He knew his last thought to be  
impossible, but he had to try. Dumont wasn't going to kill anymore women.  
Ray had enough of Dumont's work. For once, Ray had enough of police work  
all together that night as his mind wandered off into the thought of  
where Dumont could be staying, hiding. But for the life of him, he couldn't  
think of anywhere that would make any possible connection.

He wasn't going to sleep anyway, so he just tried again through the whole  
night.  
____________

Fraser's hand stroked Meg's dark hair that was tossed around her face  
like a halo. It spread on a good part of the pillow under her head, which  
was partly under Fraser's. He lay awake staring at her, doing some thinking  
of his own that night as she turned quietly in her sleep.

Blue eyes staring at shut ebony, Fraser thought of the crime scene earlier  
that day as the silver moonlight poured into their hotel room window  
and on to the cream carpet covering the floor underneath them. When she  
had asked who Dumont was, and when he had answered, it seemed as though  
she already knew the answer to her own question before she even asked.  
Possibly just making sure she wasn't alone on her ideas about Dumont.

Her hand lay on his stomach as she neared him more, sleeping what seemed  
peacefully until she sprung up out of her sleep, sitting up in the bed  
Fraser and she shared. She breathed hardly, scanning the room for something  
only she had seen.

Fraser sat up quickly and took her into his arms. "Shhh...hush...just  
a bad dream," he whispered soothingly to gain her trust. Tiny sweat  
beads formed on her forehead. He pulled her gently back to a laying position  
with him and laid her head on his chest soothingly. "Shhhh..."

For a while, it seemed as though there was nothing he could do to relax  
her, he felt the tension in her arm muscles as she wrapped her arms around  
his stomach, laying her head on his chest, breathing hard. But after  
a bit, she relaxed back into sleep, every once in a while shivering from  
the nightmare she had.

Once she was back asleep, Fraser sighed, still holding her securely as  
she did the same with him. He assumed they were dreams of the crime scene  
as he wrapped two long arms around her slim waist, holding her close.  
Damn you, Dumont, he thought angrily. Damn you. He continued to hold  
her, once in a while kissing her neck softly as she slept.

Fraser wondered if Ray had yet any dreams of Dumont, or his first victim,  
Samantha. But then again, Ray probably hadn't gone to sleep and wouldn't.  
And neither would he.  
____________

In the middle of the night, or really the next morning, Fraser and Ray  
both found themselves asleep due to their own causes. Ray was on his  
999th sheep when it happened, and Fraser was holding Meg closely, and  
found out that it could be very warm between two people so closely together.  
In either case, they both fell asleep at about the time when Meg had  
woken up.

She found herself wrapped securely in Fraser's now dead weight arms,  
and realized he was only trying to comfort her from her nightmare the  
night before. Lifting a long arm over her waist, she laid it down beside  
her body, off of hers, and rose from the bed quietly, as not to wake  
Fraser. She had a pretty good idea of what last night was like without  
him telling her. She knew he was up.

She tip-toed to the bathroom in her street clothes from yesterday, and  
reached in her canvas travel bag, pulling out light blue jeans and a  
brown chenille sweater, a matching hair clip, socks, and everything else  
necessary for a shower. Running the shower water, she peeked out of the  
bathroom and saw Fraser didn't even stir. He was too tired. But she knew  
he'd be on the alert for anything bad.

She washed herself in the shower, and checked her water-proof watch.  
It was around 6am, she saw, and almost yawned in the shower. She'd change,  
go downstairs and see if there were any messages for her at the hotel  
front desk.

Out of the shower and dried, she pulled the jeans on, slipped her sweater  
on and her socks, amongst other things before she pulled her damp hair  
back into a pony tail, twisted it, and pinned it up behind her head with  
the spring lock hair clip. Applying a little make-up, she exited the  
bathroom and took some paper from her notepad that was inside her back  
jean pocket, she scribbled a note for Fraser so he wouldn't worry about  
her.

She placed the paper on her pillow where he was expecting her to be and  
laced up her brown hiking boots, fixing a black cord necklace that was  
around her neck. In the center was a small sunflower in pewter, beside  
that, two green/brown beads. It wasn't quiet a choker, but close to it.

She looked down at Fraser before leaving, kissing his cheek gently, as  
if not to wake him, and she slipped out of the hotel room, clicking the  
door shut behind her as she headed downstairs to check her messages at  
the front desk.

Jogging down the hotel stairs, she reached the bottom of the stair case  
and jumped the last two. When she reached the front desk, a African American  
woman greeted her with a warm smile.

"Good mornin', child," she said. "Anything I can help  
you with?"

"Yes," Meg said, standing in front of the desk, "could  
you tell me if Meg Thatcher has any messages?"

The woman nodded. "You've got a package, darling. A *long* package."

Meg looked confused. The woman, who's name was Harriet, handed the long,  
white box to Meg, who nodded.

"Thanks...I think," Meg said. Harriet smiled.

"Anything I can do for you, child," she replied, watching Meg  
walk over to a small coffee table in the hall, sitting on the seat in  
front of it. Her hands found the sides of the box and lifted the smooth  
lid off slowly, as if the box were china. *Should I wait for Ray and  
Ben?* she thought hesitantly. *Maybe I should...what if it's something...I  
don't know. Nah. I'll just open it myself.*

Meg lifted the lid off quickly, as if to get it over with and gasped  
at its contents.

"Roses," she whispered. "Six red roses."

She stared at the flowers, they were the most beautiful she'd ever seen  
in her life. On the bottom of the bouquet, there was a tiny white envelope  
attached. She plucked the card off the flowers and set the roses back  
inside the box. She opened the card carefully and read the note:

"From a secret admirer."

Her ebony eyes read the note over twice. "From a secret admirer?"  
she asked herself softly.

"And who would that be?"

Meg jumped and turned around to face Ray. It was Fraser next to him,  
and they both frowned.

"Well?" Ray asked, hands on hips.

"I haven't the slightest idea, guys." Meg replied. "I  
don't recognize the hand writing...usually it's what I go by to ID people."

Fraser picked up the roses from inside the box and looked them over.  
"Sure are nice ones, must have cost this guy a fortune."

"Which I have a feeling it's someone who doesn't care about cost,"  
Ray said. Meg looked to Ray.

"What--who do you think sent them to me?" she asked.

"Who else?" Ray turned. "That damn Dumont did. He sent  
you these roses, Meg!"

Meg looked down at the flowers. "Why, though? He never did with  
any of the other victims, Ray," she said quietly. Ray put a hand  
on her shoulder.

"He's stalking you, Meg," the detective replied. "And  
it's because of me."

"Ray," Meg whispered, "you have nothing to do with how  
creepy Dumont is."

"No, but I do have something to do with it when you're a victim!"

The detective walked a few steps away from Fraser and Meg. They watched  
their friend as he hung his head. Ray turned and walked directly to Meg.  
He stopped when he was close to her face.

"Don't even *think* about leaving our sides, Meg!" he warned.  
She backed away, and he realized he had sounded mad at her, which he  
wasn't at all. He sighed and finished in a gentler tone, "I don't  
want you to get hurt. I...care about you too much. You mean a lot to  
me."

Meg realized that every time Dumont was brought up and every time Ray  
looked in Meg's eyes that she reminded him of Samantha. She touched his  
shoulder.

"I promise," she whispered. Ray nodded. Meg looked to the flowers.  
She lifted the box and brought it to Harriet, who had just returned to  
the empty room, besides the Trio, and looked at her. "Could you  
put these in water and keep them here in the lobby? I'd appreciate it."

"Sure thing, child," Harriet took the roses and walked into  
the back room, humming a jazz tune as she filled a crystal pitcher up  
with water and cut the stems of the roses, then placed them in the water  
on the coffee table.

Ray looked to Meg, then to Fraser. "Let's go get breakfast, I'm  
hungry."

Meg nodded and followed Ray, and so did Fraser, who squeezed Meg's hand  
as they made their way to the dining room in the hotel.  
____________

"Roses are red, violets are blue. Here's something I'll promise...I  
will get you!" Laughter pierced the air as something stabbed the  
cold ground underneath the person in the dark. "Vecchio won't stop  
me from getting my way again. I'll make sure of that this time."  
the person growled in anger, slamming a piece of rotted wood into a hard  
metal object where he was.

"Never again, Vecchio."  
____________

The Trio decided cold cereal would have to do as their breakfast that  
morning after Ray got a call from Terry.

"Detective Marc Dustin's here, Detective Vecchio. He demands to  
see you, let a guy tell you, he's pissed."

"All right, we'll be right over."

So the Trio gobbled down their breakfast and headed quickly outside to  
the curb in front of their Toronto hotel, Ray flagged a cab down and  
they all climbed inside.

"Where y'all headed?" the cabby questioned. Ray pointed in  
front of them.

"Police station," he stated, sitting in the front seat while  
Fraser and Meg sat in the back.

It wasn't very far of a drive, Ray realized, as he paid the cabby his  
money for taking them to the station. The Trio walked through the double  
doors together and seated themselves in near-by chairs. Ray grabbed a  
donut and broke it into three pieces for the Trio, and Meg grinned. They  
ate the cake with much pleasure, not knowing how hungry they really were  
until they saw the food.

Kyla approached them. "Good morning, Detective, Inspector, Constable.  
Detective Dustin is in interrogation room three. C'mon, I'll take you  
there."

The Trio followed Kyla to a small interrogation room where a tall, dark  
haired man was sitting in one of four seats around a small table. Kyla  
clicked the door shut behind herself and stood a bit in the back, letting  
the Trio sit. Dustin's eyes found Ray's.

"You...you're responsible for my fiancée?!" he growled.  
Ray stood.

"No, I'm not," he replied. Kyla was the only one to look to  
him in question besides Dustin. Meg and Fraser knew he wasn't. Dustin  
looked to Ray.

"What do you mean?" he asked. "Aren't you Vecchio?"

"Yes, I am."

"Then you're the one!"

"No, the only one is Dumont," Ray stated with anger. "Don't  
mix me into any of his doings."

"You were the one who threw him in jail, he escaped and now all  
dark haired woman with relation to cops are suffering because of you!"

Ray charged toward Dustin, his hands gripped his shirt, but the quick  
Fraser pried him off of the Canadian detective as Meg watched in horror.  
Ray struggled against Fraser, but the Mountie gripped his friend tightly,  
not letting go until Kyla removed Dustin from the room. Ray broke free  
at last and slumped in his chair, covering his face with his large hands.

Meg still sat in her chair, unconsciously gripping the bottom edges of  
it. She looked to Ray, who seemed still a bit fiery. Fraser's hands slid  
on her shoulders as he stood behind her chair, watching Ray. The Trio  
was alone.

"Damn that man! He blames me for Dumont, damn him!" Ray said  
mostly to himself. "He's not the only one who's suffering in this  
world."

Fraser gripped Meg's hands and led her out of the interrogation room,  
leaving Ray behind to take a deep breath and think things over. They  
watched him sit, his back faced them, and Ray sighed deeply.

"Poor Ray," Meg whispered.

Fraser nodded. "He's going through a lot. I just hope he gets this  
Dumont."

Ray exited the interrogation room fifteen minutes later and joined his  
two friends, who waited for him outside while he cleared his head. Ray  
looked down to them as they sat in two chairs.

"Let's go. Terry will call us if anything happens."

The two Mounties stood and followed Ray out of the police station, a  
little afraid for Ray, and a little upset for him. Ray pulled another  
cab over and they all got inside.

Ray didn't speak a word to either Canadian as he sat in the cab. Neither  
of them expected him to. He was under a lot of pressure and stress, a  
man could only cover it for so long.

A thought came to Meg's mind. *Maybe I have more Dumont messages,* she  
thought. *I'll check alone when we get back to the hotel.*

"I need to call a couple people when we get back to the hotel,"  
Ray told his friends. "So just wait around for me, then I wanted  
to check forensics for their report on things, so we'll have to rent  
a car, so that'll take time." The two other Trio members nodded.  
"It'll cost a little bit of cash, so we'll all need to pitch in.  
Just can't have me pay for everything." He grinned to them, trying  
to tell them that deep inside, he was still there, even though his appearance  
was clouded by anger at Alexander Dumont. Both Canadians knew that no  
matter what, they'd always have Ray. No matter what.  
____________

Late afternoon approached the Trio quicker than they thought it would  
as they spent most of it inside the forensic building, trying to piece  
together what little information they had. There wasn't much, and it  
took more. They were unsuccessful. Once they were back at the hotel,  
Ray headed upstairs to lay down for a bit before dinner, trusting that  
Meg would be watched at all times by Fraser, who vowed his eyes wouldn't  
shut.

"Ben...I need to check and see if..." she stopped and looked  
to him. He nodded.

"Go ahead. I'm coming with you though," he replied, walking  
to the front desk. Harriet greeted them.

"Those roses are certainly a nice bunch, they are. Very pretty,"  
she commented. "What can I do for you?" she asked, looking  
to the roses that were on the small coffee table in the lobby.

"I'd like to see if I have any more messages? Under Meg Thatcher?"  
Meg asked. She played with her necklace as Harriet pulled out a small  
box.

"Here's all you've got, honey," Harriet told her. Meg smiled.

"Thanks very much."

Meg and Fraser walked to the small couch in the lobby, and Meg opened  
the package carefully. Inside the brown box was a small child's shoe  
box, and she lifted it out carefully, setting the other box aside. Fraser  
squinted slightly as she opened the shoe box lid to discover something  
confusing.

"Dried rose petals?" she asked, her fingers sifting through  
the dried flowers.

"No Meg," Fraser said quietly, picking a whole dried rose up  
from inside the box that laid on top. "Dead rose petals. Dead ones."

Her eyes searched his as he put the rose back inside the box, running  
a hand through his hair. She figured out what he was telling her.

"Dumont is stalking me, isn't he?" she asked, setting the open  
box aside. Fraser nodded, but it wasn't his voice that replied to her.

"But he won't hurt you, Meg. I promise." They turned to see  
Ray standing next to them, looking at the shoe box filled with dead rose  
petals. "I promise you that."

Ray turned to Harriet, who was talking with another woman behind the  
front desk. "Ma'am, do you know who's been sending Meg these things?  
Do you have records?"

Harriet shook her head. "It works like this." She folded her  
hands on the desk. "There's a guy who takes the messages from people,  
and gives them to me. As you can see behind here," Harriet showed  
them what was behind the desk, it looked like all little cut-out squares  
with taped names above them. Meg saw hers, "it's like a little postal  
service. I put them in the right boxes, and you get them whenever you  
want them, or as long as you stay at this hotel. But the man who gets  
the messages don't usually get information on them. If there ain't no  
name on your package, there ain't no name in record."

Ray nodded disappointedly. "Thanks, Ma'am." He walked away  
from the front desk and looked at the dried rose petals. Meg picked the  
box up and walked to the large fireplace that at the end of the lobby.  
The huge flames of the fire lit up as Meg put her arms inside and tossed  
the petals on top of the burning wood. Her dark eyes watched them crackle  
and burn, the fire seemed to enjoy them.

At least something did.  
____________

The Trio decided at 6pm, it was time for dinner. Into the dinner room  
the Trio went, and they each ordered a seafood dinner, not knowing why  
each of them did, but they grinned when they all had lobster or shrimp  
on their plates. Eating hungrily, the Trio filled themselves, Ray even  
ordered a second entree, not to mention desert.

Meg wiped a smudge of chocolate sauce away from her lip as they ate desert.  
Things seemed to have been more laid back and casual that evening, rather  
than the morning and afternoon they had spent with the detective, and  
the forensics people weren't much help to them anyway.

But like always, something good had to come to an end, and they discovered  
that while Ray's cell phone rang. He answered and found out it was Terry.

"We didn't find anything, Detective, just to let you know, but I  
wanted to tell you that the closed casket viewing for Detective Dustin's  
fiancée is tonight at 7pm till 9pm. The funeral is tomorrow morning."

Ray nodded slowly and thought for a moment. "We'll be there shortly."  
He hung up and saw his two friends were ready to rush out after a trail  
of Dumont evidence. But Ray shook his head.

"Guys, Hillary Wilson's viewing, closed casket, is tonight. I'm  
thinking of going."

Meg put her spoon down. "Ray, I don't mean this offensively, but  
you might cause an uproar."

Ray nodded. "I know. But...I almost feel it's my duty to...be there."  
Fraser and Meg stood.

"Then we go with you," Fraser said. Ray nodded, and they left  
the dinner hall to change. Fraser let Meg change first while he borrowed  
one of Ray's suits, a dark one, since he didn't have any. Meg changed  
into a long, dark blue skirt with a dark blue chenille sweater. She fixed  
her hair and re-appeared to the two boys, who were waiting outside the  
bathroom she was in. The all nodded to each other and walked together  
outside to where their rented car was. Ray called Terry for instructions,  
and afterwards, drove them to the funeral home.

Heads didn't turn when they entered the building, yet they were ignored  
as they went to the closed casket to kneel beside it. Ray saw Dustin  
kneeling in front of the casket, his head bowed in prayer, his hands  
folded to match. Ray could see the tears slipping down his cheeks as  
he whispered:

"I love you."

It made Ray want to turn around and run back to the hotel. He couldn't  
bear to watch it any longer. But he remembered why he was there. It did  
feel as though he was guilty of killing Hillary, yet he wasn't the one  
who had. But he was the one who had thrown Dumont in jail. He was the  
one who had arrested him and made him angry. He was the one who had to  
watch people morn. All because of him. He knew at that moment, there  
was no one he hated more than himself.

But Dumont crossed that line.

Meg and Fraser went up first, Dustin had left the building for a short  
moment to get away from all the people. They looked down to the body.  
Meg shut her eyes and started to pray. She was Catholic after all, and  
she knew that there had to be some way to stop this. Fraser looked down  
to the body and knew that he must try. So, since he was without religion,  
he shut his eyes and started to pray. He didn't know to who, but he just  
wanted to pray.

After a few moments, they left the casket and it was Ray's turn.

Ray slowly approached the casket, flashbacks of Samantha's funeral entered  
his mind. It seemed as though the whole scene was black and white as  
he walked to the casket. The same flowers were there, the same people,  
but they looked older in style, like it was that very day when he faced  
Samantha's casket. Children sat in chairs a bit away from the casket,  
dressed in suits and ties and dresses, fighting over candy. Parents tried  
to calm them as they held their eighties styled purses and hats in their  
hands.

The strangest thing was, he wasn't himself. He wasn't "Detective  
Vecchio", yet he was "Ray the Chicago Detective", like  
people had known him back then. His suit had changed, his shoes, his  
tie, his very thoughts changed as he neared the casket, he didn't know  
who's he was nearing though. But when he saw Samantha's name on the front,  
he knew he was having a nightmare as the casket slowly opened. He realized  
someone had just fixed the casket lid. Nothing more.

He felt something on his left side. Someone touched him. She was a couple  
years younger than he, probably around 21 since he was 23. Her brown  
eyes searched his green ones. He focused on her and saw a resemblance  
between her and Samantha. She was wearing a long, dark skirt with a sweater.

But who was she?

She wasn't family.

Then who was she?

Her hands found his and gripped them. He saw her mouth open to say something.  
She touched his face.

"Ray, are you okay?"

That voice. It brought him back to the present. Things became in colour  
again. It was Meg standing beside him, touching his shoulder. It was  
her holding his hands, touching his face. Ray breathed deeply and nodded.

"Yeah, I'm okay," he said quietly, patting her shoulder as  
he neared the casket. It seemed as though he was walking quicker than  
he was before and he found himself kneeling in front of the casket, his  
head bowed, his hands folded, his heart crying out in prayer.

When he stood up, he sighed and rubbed his eyes, signaling his friends  
that it was time to go. He wasn't sure whether it was because he was  
having the flashbacks or because of Dustin. The Trio made their way out  
to the front door and they saw Dustin outside, sitting down on a bench  
on the porch. His head raised as he saw the Trio walk by him, but he  
didn't start an argument. Too many people were suffering already. Including  
himself.

The three walked down quietly to the rented car, and handed the keys  
to Fraser. "Could you drive for me, Benny?" he asked, opening  
the front passenger's door for Meg. She sat inside and he opened the  
back door, sitting inside. Fraser got inside the driver's seat and started  
the car up, pulling out of the parking lot.

Once the Trio had reached their hotel, Ray checked his watch and decided  
to call it a night. As he walked up the stairs, Meg checked back with  
Harriet to see if Dumont had struck again.

"No, sorry, honey. No messages."

But those words weren't a disappointment, yet a happy sound to Meg's  
ears. Fraser walked with her up the stairs as they finally went to bed,  
and their conversation was the only thing that kept them up while they  
changed; Meg in the bathroom and Fraser in the bedroom.

"What did you dream last night?" Fraser asked as he loosened  
his tie. Meg stopped.

"I...don't remember, Ben," she replied.

"How could you not? It seemed like a terrible dream," he remarked,  
taking his suit jacket off, and unbuttoning his shirt.

"I guess..." She paused as she slipped on fuzzy night shirt  
and replaced her skirt with a pair of flannel PJ bottoms. "Oh."  
It didn't sound like she wanted to remember it when she said that word.  
"I remember. It was...creepy. There was this old, old church, right?"  
He listened as she brushed her hair and as he pulled on his sweat pants  
and left his undershirt on. "And I was inside. But I wasn't there  
for like a church service or anything, yet I was just there. I don't  
know what for. But I saw lots of cobwebs hanging from old tapestries  
and stuff, and I started to walk deeper into the church."

"Do you know what kind of church it was?" Fraser asked. She  
shook her head.

"No. I don't...but it was a pretty one. Until I saw the blood marks."

"What were they from?"

"I didn't know until I saw that there was a knife laying on the  
ground. It had blood running off the blade." She exited the bathroom  
and shivered. Fraser was sitting on the side of the bed.

"Doesn't sound like a nice dream," he remarked. She shook her  
head.

"The only reason I screamed, though, was when I felt the air brush  
around me and the hands grab me."

At that, Fraser shivered. "Well," he said, pulling back the  
covers on the bed for her as she climbed in, "all I have to say  
right now is, 'Sweet Dreams'." When she was laying down on the bed,  
he climbed in and pulled the covers over both of them, kissing her cheek  
goodnight. She nodded.

"I'll try," she whispered, closing her eyes as she laid her  
head on his chest and fell fast asleep. Fraser's hand patted her shoulder  
and he held her close.

"I hope you do," he replied, clicking the lamp beside the bed  
off.  
____________

It took Ray a bit of time before he could unbutton his suit jacket. He  
had been pacing in his hotel room ever since he had went in it. He didn't  
know whether he would be able to go the funeral the next day, before  
they came inside the hotel, the Trio agreed on it that night that they  
would, but Ray wasn't so sure right now.

It seemed as though the memories wouldn't leave his head. Every time  
he shut his eyes, black and white flashes of pictures of Samantha and  
he entered his mind. He tried to shut them out and ignore it, but it  
was like a hungry dog trying to ignore a steak in front of him. He couldn't.  
It was there. Right in front of him.

He laid back on the bed, his suit jacket was the only thing off of him,  
and he sighed. He thought of something new. The messages Dumont had been  
sending Meg. First, live flowers. Then dead ones. The creep had enough  
nerve to warn Meg about her own death. But Meg wasn't dying. Ray would  
die first.

He had the funeral the next morning, it was time for sleep.  
____________

"Hillary Wilson put something in our lives for a long time. As you  
know, she was the daughter of Mayor Wilson of the County, whom recently  
passed away. She was Detective Marc Dustin's fiancée, in which,  
she was excepted into the Dustin family before this terrible mishap.

"But this, not in the least, is the end of her, yet by the power  
of God she is in the Kingdom at this very moment, a place so wonderful,  
no one can blame her for staying there. She will be greatly missed, yes,  
our sorrow in her death, but she is looking down on us right now, next  
to the Almighty Father who has brought her into the Kingdom to live with  
him from this day on to forever.

"Bless everyone here today as we all take a moment of silence to  
look back through her life, and see that she has been a part of us for  
all time she has lived."

In unison, the Trio's heads lowered, Meg's hands folded into prayer.  
Fraser didn't shut his eyes, rather looked down to his borrowed shoes  
in thought. Ray shut his, deep in prayer as the cold morning wind whipped  
around him and all the others from the outside atmosphere. When everyone's  
heads raised, Meg and Ray did the sign of the cross and watched as the  
casket lid was showered with single roses.

Ray had brought something else though. Roses weren't on his good list  
for a while, yet he brought a single carnation. They said it was the  
sign of life forever more. He dropped the carnation on to the lid and  
looked at it. It stuck out from the roses like a green thumb. But he  
didn't care. It was the least he could do, though it was too late. But  
as the Priest at his church in Chicago said, "It's never too late."

Ray and the two Canadians walked away from the lowering casket and Ray  
met up with Dustin, who was joined by his mother and father. They left  
their son when they saw Ray and Dustin froze in his spot.

"What is it, Vecchio? Couldn't settle for Hillary, had to have more?"  
he asked angrily. Fraser knew that Ray wanted to just apologize, but  
he still was ready for any fights breaking out.

"I wanted to say I'm extremely sorry, Marc," he said. "Hillary  
didn't deserve what she got, but she does deserve what she had."

Dustin looked confused for a moment. "What do you mean what she  
had?" he asked.

Ray took a breath. "She had you."

The Chicago Detective left the Toronto one and joined his two friends  
back to the car. Dustin's eyes watched Ray's back as the Italian detective  
walked away from the gravesite. The battle seemed as though it was over  
for good. Now Ray only had the war, which he wanted to win so badly.

While driving back to the hotel, Ray asked Meg, "Any messages this  
morning?"

Meg shook her head. "I didn't have any, no Ray," she replied.  
He nodded.

"He'd better lay off you."

Meg looked to him. "That's pretty impossible. I fit his MO pretty  
well."

Ray nodded. "I know. But he'd better anyway."

Ray parked the car in the hotel parking lot and the three got out of  
the car, walking up to the hotel double doors. Ray swung them open, and  
they all walked inside. Ray loosened his tie a bit and looked back to  
the two Mounties.

"Listen, I'm going to go head over to forensics again, then the  
police station. Could you guys...wait here to see if Terry calls, then  
call me?"

Fraser nodded. "Of course, but I thought Terry was going to call  
you on your cell phone, Ray."

"Oh yeah," Ray nodded. Meg looked to Fraser.

"Don't worry, we'll wait for that call Ray," she replied. He  
looked to her and nodded in appreciation.

"Thanks, guys, I really appreciate this," he said, walking  
out the front door. Fraser was confused more than ever.

"But I thought..." His finger pointed to Ray as he was walking  
out the door, "...that he was getting it on his cell phone."

Meg shook her head. "Here's an analogy," she said. "If  
you were going on a date with me, would you want Ray hovering over your  
back?"

Fraser nodded. "Ahh...understood."  
The two walked upstairs to change, then just to hang around, Ray had  
suggested Lieutenant Welsh was someone to call, so while Meg was showering,  
since she didn't that morning and wanted to then, Fraser would call Welsh  
and tell him the status on the case.

"Yes, Leftenant. Everything's all right with us, though we haven't  
been able to locate Dumont."

Welsh sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Where's Vecchio?"

Fraser shook his head. "I don't know at the moment, but he should  
have his cell phone with him, sir. He asked for Inspector Thatcher and  
myself to stay behind."

"Typical," Welsh replied.

"Sir?" Fraser questioned, bewildered.

"Never mind." Welsh frowned. "Well, I'll give Vecchio  
a call on his cell phone and talk to him about Dumont. Take care, Constable."

"You too, sir."

Fraser hung up the phone and listened for a bit. The shower water had  
stopped inside, so she was probably changing. There was a knock on their  
hotel room door, and it opened.

"Room service," the man said, wheeling a cart inside. Fraser  
shook his head.

"I don't believe we ordered room service, sir," he corrected.  
The man looked at him.

"Ahh, a Mister Vecchio said to bring you some tea before he left,  
so I'm assuming it's all right now?"

Fraser smiled. "Yes, thank you kindly, sir." The waiter poured  
some tea into a cup and offered sugar and cream, but Fraser denied it.  
He sipped the tea. "Thank you kindly again."

"It's just my job, sir." The waiter bowed and wheeled the cart  
out while Fraser drank his tea. But when the Mountie went to stand, he  
felt a bit woozy.

He looked at the room around him, it seemed to be moving. Spinning. Growing  
faster and faster until he felt as though a hockey player was whooshing  
around him in circles. Fraser held the empty tea cup in his hands and  
tried to walk back to the bed, but instead passed out, leaving the china  
cup to crash to the floor and to shatter into tiny pieces, alarming Meg.  
She exited the bathroom, fully dressed in jeans and a green sweater,  
boots and still wearing her necklace, her hair a bit damp from the water.  
She saw Fraser and gasped.

"Ben!" she cried, kneeling to him, checking his pulse. The  
Mountie laid still as she knelt beside him. The door swung open. Meg  
thought it might be Ray, but instead it was the waiter, who earned his  
title by waiting for Fraser to pass out. She looked to him. "Call  
911, please!" she said. But she looked into his eyes and remembered  
her dream. Scared, she left Fraser as the waiter ran towards her. Trying  
to escape, she kicked him, but he still managed to grab her around her  
waist, pulling a knife on her, pressing the back of the blade against  
her throat.

"Don't move," the man commanded. "Unless you want to be  
smiling across your neck, sweetheart." Meg shuddered and the man  
pulled her out of the room. "You'll do as I say, or I'll kill your  
friends, Ray and Fraser. Am I clear?" he asked. Thinking of the  
two boys, she nodded. "Good. Now walk with me downstairs or I make  
sure it'll be the last time you walk and the last time they do."

Meg followed his every instruction, exiting the building by the man's  
side without the knife pressed to her throat. Her hopes fell when she  
realized Harriet or anyone else wasn't there. They were alone. Once in  
the deserted parking lot, the man knocked Meg unconscious and laid her  
body in the back of a car, then sped off.  
____________

"I don't know what happened, Ray," Fraser told Ray about an  
hour later when Ray returned to his friends to find Fraser on the ground  
and Meg gone. "God, this is my fault."

Ray shook his head. "No, Benny. This isn't. It was Dumont. You probably  
didn't recognize him. Dammit..." Ray stood as Fraser held a pack  
of ice to a cut made by the pieces of china tea cup. Police swarmed the  
room, looking for evidence and clues, but none were found.

Terry approached the two, he being part of the investigation.

"We found nothing here, the room's clean. No fingerprints, no nothing.  
The only ones we found were Meg's, and that doesn't help."

Fraser sighed. "It was probably the room service guy, he claimed  
you sent us up tea, I drank it, it probably had tranquilizers inside.  
He had gloves on, so there wouldn't be any prints. It was part of the  
waiter outfit he wore. You took Meg's cup for sampling..."

"In which we found nothing," Terry finished. "Her cup  
was clean."

Ray shut his eyes. "No evidence whatsoever?" he asked. Terry  
shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Detective."

Ray paced. He wasn't giving up. "Where could Dumont be? What kind  
of atmosphere does he like?" he asked himself aloud. Fraser looked  
to him.

"What kind *does* he like, Ray?" he asked. Ray shook his head.

"All I know is he don't like to be cramped."

Fraser thought for a moment. "Ray, would a church be considered  
'cramped'?"

Ray shrugged. "Churches can be pretty large, Benny. Why?" He  
looked to Fraser. "What are you thinking?"

Fraser shook his head. "This could be a long shot, but two nights  
ago, Meg had a dream, a nightmare more like it. She said she was inside  
a church, she didn't know why, but she said that it had old tapestries  
and cobwebs, obviously it wasn't used too much. And it was fairly old.  
She said she was looking around, she thought it was pretty, until she  
saw a knife laying on the ground with blood on it. Then she said arms  
grabbed her and pulled her back somewhere. Then she woke up."

Ray looked around at the uniformed officers that were investigating the  
crime scene. "Somebody get me a list of every single old church  
in Toronto!" he yelled. "NOW!"  
____________

Drips of moisture ran down the ceiling of the damp, dark room Meg was  
inside. She woke slowly, her eyes focusing on what was in front of her.  
She jumped. It was a large rat, crawling around in front of her. She  
stood, backing away from the rat, but bumped into something. Tall, metal  
bars. She was trapped. It was like a prison underground. But dark.

She heard footsteps and a laugh as it neared her. He smiled at her and  
she backed away a little bit more. "Well, well, well...Meg, my sweet,  
we don't like rats, do we?" He laughed.

"Who are you? No...wait...you're Dumont, right?" she asked.

Alexander Dumont smiled.

"You are correct, Ma'am!" he replied, sipping liquor from an  
old flask. "And you would be the Meg Thatcher that Ray has come  
to befriend so closely." His face neared hers. "Just like he  
did Samantha Burgen." His breath stank of liquor, she tried backing  
away, but he grabbed her arm. "And obviously you know what happened  
to her."

"Is Fraser alive?" Meg demanded. Dumont shrugged.

"If he drank all the tea, no. He won't be." Meg's eyes widened  
as Dumont cackled. "Yes, my dear. He's still alive. But I needed  
a way to get to you, see...you were to highly guarded. Vecchio made sure  
of that. And well," He touched her face through the bars and she  
winced, "that makes me mad."

Meg shivered. "Where am I?" he asked. Dumont shrugged.

"I don't know, you tell me." He smiled. "You dreamt this  
place. Of course, what you dreamt is upstairs." His finger pointed  
to a hole in the ceiling. Up on the first level, above them both, was  
an old church. Tapestries hung from the walls, cobwebs hung from them  
as well. It was old, and very pretty. As she looked, Dumont jerked her  
head to his and drew his knife. She gasped and he laughed. "Ahh,  
see. You remember your dream now, don't you, sweetheart?"

He let her arm go and she sank in the far corner of the cell. He smiled.

"I'll be back in a bit, let's give Vecchio just enough time to find  
you..." He looked back to her, his eyes glaring to her with evil  
inside them. "...dead," he said.  
____________

"This is got to be it, the Church of the Saints. It's the oldest  
church in Toronto, and it fits the description."

"Then I suggest we go, Ray. Before it's too late."

Ray looked around. "I want three officers on every single crime  
scene Dumont has been on!" he ordered inside the Toronto Precinct.  
"If any of you can get a shot at Dumont, I don't give a damn where,  
but without hurting his victim, shoot, for God's Sake. But DON'T shoot  
the woman he'll have with him!" Fraser looked to him. He was just  
as worried.

"What about possible crime scenes too, Ray? Shouldn't they be covered?"  
he asked. Ray nodded.

"Get three on the ones already made and possible ones as well! Radio  
me if *any* of you have *anything*. Got it? Let's go, Benny!"  
____________

Dumont opened the rusted lock on Meg's cell and she stood in the corner  
as he entered. He grabbed her and pulled her out, she winced as he yanked  
her harshly out of the underground level in the church. Secretly, she  
yanked her cord necklace free and dropped it behind her, hoping someone  
would find it.

Up various stairs, he led her with a knife pressed to her throat. Soon  
they were out in the darkening evening sky, outside the old church, just  
about when Ray came inside the front entrance. Fraser scanned the church,  
but they saw nothing until Ray saw the hole. The two went straight down,  
landing on the dusty, yet damp floor. Fraser spotted the necklace and  
picked it up, looking at the sunflower, thinking of Meg.

"Meg," he whispered, showing the necklace to Ray.

"It's a good sign, Benny. She isn't dead," Ray reminded, but  
they both charged up the same stairs that Dumont had in search of Meg,  
who was being dragged into an unknown alley. Ray and Fraser found themselves  
outside and they looked around. Hardly anyone knew about the alley, and  
that included the officers that were being stationed.

"She's gotta be here," Fraser said, searching the alley.

Meg, deciding to risk it all, cried out for help. Ray heard it and so  
did Fraser, and they ran toward the sound. Ray yelled what he had found  
and where in his radio.

"We've got him, behind the Church of the Saints! Get back up here  
NOW!"

Dumont worried now. But he shook it off and pulled Meg deeper into the  
alley, throwing her to the ground. She breathed deeply as his hands found  
her neck and grabbed it, starting to choke her. She coughed, barely enough  
to make a sound, and Dumont slipped a cord around her neck, pulling gradually  
tighter on it until she gasped, then lay unconscious from lack of air.  
Pulling her shirt up, he smiled at her smooth stomach and raised his  
knife above it.

Ray and Fraser ran like the wind, searching every inch of the alley.

Dumont felt Meg breathing, but she wasn't strong enough to barely open  
her eyes let alone wrestle with a man who had a knife or to scream. Her  
eyes remained shut as Dumont's knife came lower to her stomach.

As the knife was about to touch, Ray saw Dumont and yelled, "NO!",  
leaping onto Dumont's back, pulling the knife away from Meg's stomach,  
but it slit a small cut in her upper waist anyway as Dumont still had  
power over the knife. Ray struggled on the ground with it, and finally  
tossed it far aside as the hands wrestled for it. He tried to keep possession  
of it, but wasn't able to as Dumont pinned Ray to the ground.

Fraser scooped Meg into his arms, combing her hair away. He checked her  
pulse. She was still alive.

Ray kicked Dumont on the ground and Dumont rolled onto his back, but  
flipped Ray on his as he gained possession of the knife once more, trying  
to stab Ray with it, but Ray's hand pushed it away, slowly but surely,  
Dumont's hand was far above Ray's head and Ray flipped Dumont over, stabbing  
him in the shoulder.

Dumont gulped in pain and released Ray, his shaky hand touching his bleeding  
shoulder as the back up officers finally came. Ray stood and looked down  
at what he had done, but he didn't smile. He just nodded.

"Serves you right, you..." Ray stopped. He knew it wouldn't  
help. He didn't say anymore, yet turned his attention to the back up,  
who cuffed Dumont. "It's about time you got here!" he said,  
frowning.

But he turned to Fraser, who stood away from Dumont, Meg laying in his  
arms. He rushed to her and saw the cut in her upper waist. Fraser was  
keeping pressure on it while he was cradling her.

"She needs a doctor, Ray," Fraser whispered as his friend touched  
her face. A tear slipped down his cheek.

"You'll be okay, Meg. I promise," Ray whispered to Meg, kissing  
her cheek gently. Dumont was being dragged, and stopped in front of the  
Trio as he was heading towards a squad car.

"You'll pay, Vecchio. I swear it," he warned. Ray shook his  
head.

"Never again, Dumont. Never again," he growled. Dumont walked  
forward to the squad car. Ray sighed and looked to Fraser as Meg was  
taken from his arms and loaded into an ambulance.

"Be with her, Benny. She needs you. You'd better keep her going  
for me," Ray said, looking to Meg, who was laying on a stretcher.  
Fraser climbed inside the ambulance. Ray went inside Terry's S.U.V. and  
they followed the ambulance to the local hospital where Meg was being  
taken.  
____________

The next morning, Meg's waist had been stitched the night before as soon  
as she arrived, Meg was up and walking around. Ray questioned whether  
she wanted to stay longer in the hospital for recovery.

"Are you kidding? After this whole trip, no thank you!" she  
said. Ray couldn't help but smile. "I want to leave as soon as possible."

"I'm sorry this had to happen to you, Meg," Ray apologized,  
and Meg shook her head.

"It's okay, Ray. It's not your fault," she assured, and they  
walked hand in hand together out the hospital, on Meg's other side was  
Fraser. She smiled to them and they smiled back.

The Trio headed over to the Precinct and filled out reports on the Dumont  
case, thanking Terry and Kyla for everything they had done. Ray looked  
down the Kyla.

"It's a shame you're all the way here in Toronto..." he said,  
frowning.

Kyla shrugged. "I'm going to Chicago to visit my Aunt in a few days,"  
she stated. Ray grinned.

"Really?" he asked. Kyla shook her head.

"No," she said. "But I will come to Chicago."

"Why?"

"Because of a certain Italian detective named Ray Vecchio."

"Then I'll be waiting."

Ray grinned and they laughed. Saying good-bye, the Trio headed out to  
Terry's waiting car. Fraser and Meg got inside, but Ray stayed out.

"Guys, I'll meet you at the airport. Our flight doesn't leave until  
10am. I've got something to do."

"Are you sure, Ray?" Meg asked. Ray squeezed her hand.

"Yes, dear," he joked. "You take care of yourself. Promise?"  
he asked. She nodded and Terry started the car up, driving off with the  
two Canadians. Ray sighed and walked down the sidewalk for a bit, until  
he came to the Church of the Saints.

Sitting inside a pew, he held his head with his hands. He looked up and  
sighed.

"Well Sam..." he said, "...I finally got what I wanted."  
He stopped. "It doesn't feel like the way I wanted it though...it  
doesn't feel like...I don't feel...happy over it. I mean I do for you,  
but those two other women that had to die...I feel sad for them.

"I guess I finally realized that revenge isn't always as tasteful  
as people say it is, but I'm not feeling bad about stabbing or having  
arrested Dumont. Hell, that was the highlight of my day. But Meg...God,  
I feel bad for all the women who had to suffer. But I suppose that now...I  
should look at how many were saved. Rather than how many weren't. And...through  
it all...I...just..."

The tears fell freely from his face as he sat in the pew, the mid morning  
sun slicing through the cracks of the front double doors and the huge,  
beautiful stained glass windows on the side walls of the church, the  
tapestries glowed, showing off their cranberry reds, dark, Navajo blues  
and sunflower golds in the light. His tears dropped on to his folded  
hands and he carelessly wiped them away. His heart more than shattered.  
His voice barely a whisper:

"I love you, Sam."

 

 

fin.  



End file.
